Page 47 of Traitor Witch

I hang my head in shame. “I know. She’s intimidated by me.” But I’m not going to let her fear stop me from keeping her safe.

Nos snorts, but I know he won’t tell me what’s so fucking funny. The Seer likes to keep his little inside jokes to himself. “She has her own problems. Witches don’t have mates like we do. It makes her choice even more precious.”

His head whips up as a bellow sounds in the deep. The dark, massive shape that is Cas’s beast passes under the boat, then flicks into the air in a shower of golden sparks. Cas drops to the deck in a spluttering, heaving pile. Skin flashing between scales and fur and skin.

“Don’t you dare fucking shift on my ship!” Val yells, all thoughts of Nilsa forgotten with the threat of his ship being dragged down by Cas’s beast.

Transmutation circles—the physical manifestation of a mage’s power—begin to glow a deep, inky violet across the deck as Val struggles to channel the magic to reinforce the ship’s hull. The same circles cover Val’s exposed skin, which takes on a metallic cast.

Cas writhes, battling to keep his beast locked down. The rest of us can only watch as his hands rake over his skin as if he’s physically trying to force himself into his own body.

Eventually, his movements slow. His breathing evens out. When his eyes finally open, they’re the deep brown that belongs to our friend, not the turquoise of his beast.

“Fuck that hurt.” His voice is rough from disuse.

Nos sighs. “No shit.”

Val’s circles fade, and he looks down at Cas in sympathy. “It hasn’t been that bad in a while.”

Cas rubs the back of his neck, hauling his naked ass off the deck. I snatch a pair of folded shorts from one of his many stashes and chuck them at him.

Yeah, we’re used to his nudity by now, but it’s still hard to have a conversation when his dick’s doing an imitation of the mainmast.

“When we found Nilsa in that ice he wanted to shift to protect her. She needed my body heat to warm up, so I promised him he could swim with her if he didn’t force the shift then. He’s getting impatient.”

A throat clears behind us. Kier’s been listening from the shadows for Goddess-knows-how-long, but the moment he has our attention his chin tilts toward the hatch creeping open on the lower deck.

Nilsa has finally left her cabin.

NILSA

It’s the combination of boredom and loneliness that drives me out of my room. Hours of pacing, staring at the ring and Glenna’s athame, and conversing with Opal slowly push me to the edge of insanity until I’m willing to face the sea if it means I get to see another living person.

I keep my eyes glued to the boards of the deck as I push the trap door open and poke my head into the fresh, night air.

It doesn’t help.

The sound of waves crashing, gulls cawing, and the smell of brine all tell my brain what my eyes refuse to. The black abyss of panic threatens to swallow me. Memories of being churned in cold, unforgiving waters play on a loop over my thoughts.

This isn’t worth it.

I’m ready to give in and retreat back to my cabin to lick my wounds when a throat clears.

“Nilsa?” Nos’s voice is as uncertain as I am. He and the others are all gathered on the deck above me beside the imposing ship’s wheel.

“It’s me,” I whisper, like it could be anyone else.

His face brightens at my words, and the smile he throws my way temporarily distracts me from the sea.

“Why are you up here?” Valorean demands.

He isn’t wearing a shirt. His lean, pale abs glisten in the fading light, throwing the red scars of my sigil marks into stark relief. They form a straight line down the left side of his abs, neat and tidy.

He didn’t utter a word when I carved them into his ship, despite the pain. I can almost admire that kind of stoicism. Almost.

The marks will fade. Sigils placed on non-witches always do.

Some Lunars purposefully mark their harems, giving them sigils for healing or strength. After the first few days all that remains is a silvery mark, like a metallic tattoo. Each witch’s magical signature is different, even though all our power comes from the Goddess, making each mark into a brand that takes a long time to heal. I should have guessed Val’s immortal healing would speed up the process.